


A Bright and Mossy Fen

by professionalcynic



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professionalcynic/pseuds/professionalcynic
Summary: Of course, once Lewis knew, the whole town was in a stir. A mystery man was moving the old Fen place, and bringing a kid with him. Only time would tell what, exactly, the newcomers would be like. Certainly, in a town too small even to have its own elementary school, they would make some sort of impact.Fic in progress: tags, characters, and pairings to be added as they arise. Summary subject to change.
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

Of course, once Lewis knew, the whole town was in a stir. Pelican Town was extremely small, even when compared to other small towns- too small to even merit its own elementary school. Naturally, in a town with such a low population, the addition of any number of new residents was significant increase, and thus a subject of extreme interest. As mayor, Lewis had been alerted before the new resident arrived. They would be moving into the farm just north of the woods, evidently, which had laid empty for years since the passing of its previous owner.

Everyone in the town- given that, by its size, everyone knew everyone else and their business all the time- had known Mr. Fen. Andrew Fen had lived on that plot of land for decades, mostly minding his own business, but proving himself more than good humored at every turn. He had been a pillar of the community, more by longevity than anything else. He fit into the category of men of which Pelican Town always had a handful: old, confirmed bachelors, who would be perfectly friendly if you ran into them, but who were mostly seen at festivals and rarely otherwise. He had been well liked, in a distant sort of way, and the town had mourned his passing as a whole.

Given the nature of such a small town, and the nature of its mayor, it didn’t take very long for word to spread. Unfortunately for the gossip mill, there was very little information about the new resident. It was Andrew Fen’s grandchild, they knew: there were public records of land holdings and inheritance, and the last known holder of the deed to Fen’s land after he had died had been the grandchild it was passed down to. Beyond that, there wasn’t much. Some of the older folk seemed to recall the man having family, but any family of his had been even more obscure than the man himself. At least one person swore up and down that the man had a granddaughter, but Lewis had been fairly certain that the voice he’d spoken to on the phone was male. This contradiction only furthered speculation, this time on whether there would be a couple, or even a whole family, moving in.

Penny, surprisingly enough, was the source of more details. Apparently, it was a man moving in, and his name was Russell. More than that, however, was that he would be bringing a young girl with him, who was around Jas and Vincent’s age. The man, Russell, had called the library to ask about education resources in the town, given that Pelican Town lacked its own elementary school. Gunther had directed him to Penny, and Penny had found herself with another part-time student in her care. Pam relayed all of this information to the Saloon crowd shortly thereafter, pleased as punch that her smarty-pants daughter was going to have another pupil, especially one paying as well as the new Mr. Fen seemed to be. On inquiry, Penny herself remained fairly close-lipped about the situation. Beyond confirming to Jas and Vincent’s delight that there would be another child in town, she refused to divulge any further information to prying ears.

Russell Fen moved into the old farm north of the woods on the fifth of spring. Lewis, fulfilling his self-imposed duties as mayor, was there to greet him. The rest of the town did not see Russell Fen, or the child he arrived with, until the following day. By that time, anyone in town who cared to know had already heard the rundown of the man and child’s appearances and general demeanor, that he was definitely the girl’s father, and, at long last, that the mystery child’s name first name was Windy.


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this for me, more than anything else, but feedback is extremely welcome. Bear with me playing fast and loose with the SDV world, as well- as you've probably gathered by now, things aren't going to be running strictly according to the player experience/timeline. If you notice any typos or formatting errors that I haven't caught myself, please do let me know as well. Thanks for that, and thanks for reading.

Russell Fen closed his front door with a sigh of relief, leaning back against the old wood once the latch had clicked. The drive from the city had run long, as such trips always seemed to, and though the mayor’s welcome had been friendly he was glad to not have to continue to entertain a guest when he’d only barely set foot in the house himself. Mayor Lewis was a genial enough old fellow, though verging on pompous at times. He’d adored Windy immediately, though, which certainly improved Russell’s opinion of the man. That was unsurprising, though. Russell eyed the doorway that his spawn had disappeared through moments before. Russell was biased, of course, but she was a great kid.

“Daddy!”

Speak of the devil, and she shall scream. “Yeah kiddo?” he replied, smiling.

“Look!” Windy reappeared from the other room with a sneeze, looking marginally dustier than she had been when last seen. She was carrying an equally dusty tackle box, and looking about as excited as a seven-year-old could about the prospect of mysterious old fishing lures.

“Where’d you find that?” Russell asked with interest, taking the box from her. “This must be Granddad’s tackle box.”

“It was under the bed in there,” his daughter responded promptly. “Also a bunch of dust bunnies and some dead beetles.”

“I see.” He brushed some of the grime off of the box, and popped it open, kneeling down to Windy’s level. “I hope you left the beetles where they were, since I can see you took at least one of the dust bunnies with you.”

Windy giggled as her father plucked the offending wad of dust out of her pony tail. “No, they were just June bugs.”

Russell huffed a laugh and they both turned their attention to the now-open box. It had clearly been well used, and well stocked. At least a dozen varieties of lures and hooks of various shapes and colors sat neatly in the compartments, most slightly worn from use. The lower layer of the case was filled with bits and pieces of fishing paraphernalia: rolls of line, bobbers, a set of small pliers, several stained corks, and so on. Windy was fascinated.

“What’s that for?” she asked, pointing at an odd, wiggly-shaped thing.

Russell looked at it for a moment. “Fishing, probably,” he replied, straight-faced. His daughter cackled. “I’m honestly not sure what that is, kiddo. It’s been a long while since I’ve been able to go fishing properly, with all the bobs and whistles.”

Windy cocked her head and eyed the lures with their shining hooks, and conspicuously did not try and touch any of them. “Can we go fishing here?”

“I imagine so.” Russell took a last glance over the contents of the box and latched it again, tucking it under his arm as he rose to his feet. “This kind of area ought to have at least a few good fishing spots, I’d imagine. I’ll have to ask Mayor Lewis what the situation is on fishing licenses first, though, so we can make sure that we’re allowed.”

His daughter grinned and shifted excitedly. “We can catch fish and cook them! Like camping!”

He nodded in agreement. “Assuming I can remember how to de-bone a fish, yes we can.” Russell glanced around the room, searching for a place to set the tackle box down again. “Why don’t you grab your suitcase out of the truck, and we’ll unpack a little bit?” he suggested, changing the subject. “It’s gonna be bedtime before too long. Let’s see what we can get inside tonight, and then we’ll go into town and get groceries and stuff tomorrow?”

Windy chirped an affirmative and scuttled out the door cheerfully, swinging the door shut behind her. It creaked and slowed as it approached its frame, stopping just short of actually latching. Russell uttered a short _hmm_ and pushed it closed until he heard a _click_. That would be another thing to put on the to-do list, either to try and fix or just to remember. Having the door blowing open at night, or while they were out, would be inconvenient at least. He glanced out the window, towards the woods that surrounded most of the property. At the very least there were squirrels and raccoons out there. A raccoon wouldn’t hesitate to sneak in and cause as much trouble as it could manage if there was an opportunity, and as much as that would likely thrill his daughter, he’d rather keep the wildlife outside if possible. There came a kicking at the door, so he opened it again to admit his daughter, dragging her own suitcase and a duffle bag behind her. He took the duffle from her easily and pressed the door shut again once she had passed.

“First order of business is deciding where we’re going to sleep,” he remarked, watching her nod in response. “I don’t think we can get our own beds all set up tonight, since you,” he prodded his daughter in the forehead with one finger, “are too small to help move the mattresses.” She made a small grumble of protest and acknowledgement. “You game to bunk in together on Granddad’s old bed for tonight? Or we can probably pull some cushions together and make a little cot for you on the floor, and I can take the bed alone.”

“Floor cushions!” she replied with enthusiasm. “That bed is old and smells a little funny, too.”

“Alright then, floor cushions for you it is. I’ll sleep on the funny smelling bed. I smell funny enough already, right?” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and his daughter snickered in response. “Okay then. You find the sofa cushions, wherever they are, and the box that has our sheets and stuff in it, got it? I’ll get the ice chest and the food tote, and figure out where Granddad kept his broom so that we don’t both start wheezing from dust in the middle of the night. Alright?”

Windy clapped once and bounded back out of the house. Her father followed at a more sedate pace, smiling at the ease with which his offspring was adjusting to their new home. He descended the porch steps towards the pickup and attached trailer that had carried their entire lives from the bowels of the city to this cabin in the middle of nowhere, and let the door hang ajar behind him.


	3. Day Two, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tendency is to write in chunks until I'm at a place I feel alright stopping, and then post that as its own chapter. The chapters here are going to probably feel more like single events or vignettes then, rather than full fledged chapters, but I'll try to tie things together in the chapter titles.
> 
> Additional fun fact: Windy loves dandelions and maple bars, and likes pretty much anything you can pull out of a crab pot except for actual garbage.

The sixth day of spring dawned rosy and warm. The gentle spring sun shone through the budding trees, birds chattering loquaciously in their boughs, and the fresh greenery blanketing the countryside glistened with pearls of dew. The charm of the landscape did not escape Russell Fen, despite his curmudgeonly appearance.

Russell stood at his open front door, gazing out onto the tangle of overgrowth that was now his land. To an onlooker, he would seem most displeased. His brows were tense, and an expression closer to a scowl than anything else sat obstinately on his face. His faded bathrobe hung loose from his shoulders, and his long dark hair hung loose from his head, both fluttering occasionally in the morning breeze. He took a long sip of coffee, and sighed audibly. This apparent irritability would persist until he had worked his way through at least two cups of coffee, or noon: whichever came first.

His eyes flicked to the side as he heard a rustle of movement in the room behind him, then resumed their observation of the front yard. Within a few moments, there was a small figure tucking itself under the loose robe at his side, leaning heavily against his leg and staring forward at the freshness of the day. The small figure grumbled quietly, and wrapped herself more tightly into the warmth father’s bathrobe.

“If I have to be awake, so do you,” he said ominously, giving her a wan smile when she grumbled again. “We’re in this business together, kid.”

Windy sighed noisily, but disentangled herself from her father’s side. He turned and watched her vanish again into their makeshift bedroom, then sighed again himself. He and Windy would both sleep until the afternoon every day, if they could. It was a Fen family trait, he suspected. His sister was the same way.

It took about another hour for them to get themselves in order enough to leave the house, though by that time Russell had consumed another cup and a half of coffee, and Windy had rolled into alertness with all the flexibility and energy of youth. They walked leisurely down the old dirt road towards the center of town, spotting a wide variety of birds and plant life along the way. It was about a ten-minute walk all told, despite the feeling of remoteness that surrounded their small home, and by the time they reached the cobbled pavement of the town square, Windy had picked up a small assortment of acorn caps, pebbles, and dandelions that she stuck into the pockets of her rain jacket.

Windy skipped slightly ahead of her father, occasionally slowing to show him one of the interesting things that she’d picked up. Her hair, the same deep brown as his, whipped around in its short braid as she bounced to and fro, a blue and green blur in her favorite rain jacket and jeans. She carried a child-sized umbrella in one hand, sometimes like a sword, sometimes like a baton, and sometimes swinging it around at random by the cord attaching it to her wrist. Russell carried a larger umbrella tucked under his arm, patterned with splashes of purple and white lilacs.

Russell carried himself with ease, walking steadily behind his daughter as she bobbed and weaved ahead of him. His hair hung loose and wavy around his shoulders, tossed backwards from his brow, and his eyes creased fondly as he watched his child. His own jacket was brown canvas, loose fitting over a slate grey sweater and well-worn jeans. He reached up to his jaw, scratching idly at the build up of stubble and kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. The backpack slung across his shoulders was empty, save for a handful of reusable grocery bags and the satchel of “nature stuff” that Windy had insisted they bring, in case any interesting bugs happened across their path. Bugs, thankfully, weren’t something he had to worry about this early in the day, occupied as Windy was with her new collection of inanimate treasures. She hopped eagerly on the cobbles of the main square, looking around enraptured at the small rural town they were now a part of.

“It’s so pretty!” she exclaimed, almost surprised.

Russell nodded and made a noise of agreement. It was certainly picturesque, and very different from the city they’d lived in before. From the actual cobblestones on the ground to the carving on the eaves of the houses, it was very nearly something out of a fairytale or folk story. There were no fairies, or elves, or live pancakes rolling to freedom, however. What there was instead were clean streets and neat shopfronts, spotted all over with brimming beds of brightly colored flowers. A bulletin board was tacked up in front of what could only really be called a general goods store, which Russell paused to examine before they entered the shop. There were wanted-item notices and community bulletins, but besides that there was a sturdy, well-used calendar, all set behind a clean pane of sliding glass. The town was small enough, he noted, that each individual’s birthday was written in small letters on this community calendar. That realization settled warmly in his chest, somewhat oddly shaped but affectionate all the same. For better or worse, they were small town people now. It was a significant change from a city so large that hardly anyone knew even their closest neighbors’ names.


End file.
